


The Year After The Year Before

by DragonGirl87



Series: 2019-2020 [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 2020, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Banter, Drabble, Drarry, Kissing, M/M, New Year's Day, Secret Relationship, Sequel, Teasing, first story of the new year, shaking things up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 16:09:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22059862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DragonGirl87/pseuds/DragonGirl87
Summary: It's the morning after their big revelation, what's the plan?
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Series: 2019-2020 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1587745
Comments: 22
Kudos: 121





	The Year After The Year Before

**Author's Note:**

> The first 1000+ words of 2020, randomly inspired by a conversation that had absolutely nothing to do with this fic.
> 
> Happy New Year!
> 
> Love,  
> Selly

* * *

* * *

Harry reached for two shiny black mugs, wandlessly preheated the thick ceramic, then filled them almost to the brim with steaming hot coffee. Lowering his head, he inhaled deeply, delighting in the coffee’s aroma. It was smoky, nutty, and with a subtle floral scent that lingered in one’s nose.

He nodded and with a smile, he wrapped the fingers of his right hand around the handle of his mug and brought it up to his lips to take a careful sip. He did this while carrying the other cup over to the kitchen table where he placed it on a coaster in front of Malfoy, who promptly reached out for it and wrapped both his hands around the mug, using it as a heat source.

Harry let his fingertips trail over the back of Malfoy’s pale hand and waited until Malfoy lifted his head and met his gaze.

A soft smirk curled around Malfoy’s lips and Harry couldn’t help but reciprocate. He took another sip of his coffee, then dragged his fingers further up Malfoy’s arm, trailing along his bare forearm, and the bend of his elbow, before letting it vanish underneath Malfoy’s loose T-shirt. Harry dragged the sleeve up and squeezed Malfoy’s shoulder firmly.

Malfoy inhaled sharply, and without breaking eye contact, he brought his own mug up to his lips and took several small sips, then nodded in silent appreciation.

“Yemen Mocha,” he stated.

Harry nodded.

“Yes. Your favourite. What does the Prophet say?”

Malfoy shrugged.

“Haven’t looked at it,” he said.

Harry huffed out a breath of soft laughter and drank more coffee.

“Figures. I bet it’s a shitstorm.”

Malfoy’s smirk became more pronounced, and Harry squeezed his shoulder again, delighting in the firmness of Malfoy’s muscles and the way Malfoy responded to his touch. There was a certain intimacy to this gesture. It conveyed words and feelings they hardly ever bothered to speak aloud. There was no need. They understood each other without words. It had always been this way and Harry was confident that not even the start of a new decade would change anything about that.

“Every thanks to you, Potter.”

Harry raised an eyebrow at Malfoy.

“Regrets?” he asked.

Something flashed through Malfoy’s silvery-grey eyes.

A memory.

A brief blast from the past.

He nodded.

“A few,” he said, “not about this, though.”

Harry smiled.

“Good,” he said.

Malfoy straightened up a little and casually leant against the backrest of his chair.

Harry let his eyes roam over Malfoy’s body. Dressed in only a T-shirt and a pair of tight black boxer shorts, there was a lot of pale milky skin on show, and Harry licked his lips. There was something utterly attractive about the casual way Malfoy sat at his kitchen table, as though he’d done this for years. Oddly enough, the familiarity of it increased the rate of Harry’s pulse quite drastically, and dragging his eyes back up to meet Malfoy’s, he temporarily stopped devouring Malfoy’s body and set his mug down on the kitchen table instead.

He let another minute of silence pass between them, allowing the anticipation to build slowly and steadily. It was only when the tip of Malfoy’s perfectly pink tongue darted out of his mouth, and he wetted his lips that Harry allowed the fingers of his free hand to curl around the edge of his wooden kitchen table. Without further hesitation, he leant forward, closed the small gap between them and captured what was rightfully his.

As expected, Malfoy tilted his head back, gave in to the kiss, and instead of keeping it soft and sweet, like he had the night before out on that balcony, Harry added a layer of sensuality to it that had Malfoy adding more pressure to their kiss in a silent demand for more, which Harry was only too happy to supply.

He kissed Malfoy, snogged him more likely, until they were both breathless, then pulled away, and licking his lips, he savoured the unique taste of Malfoy and smirked.

“I hope you have a plan about handling the press, Malfoy,” he said.

Malfoy rolled his eyes.

“Please, Potter, don’t insult me.”

Harry grinned.

He picked up his coffee and instead of doing the decent thing and sitting down on a chair across from Malfoy, or even next to him, he perched himself on the edge of the table.

Malfoy raised an eyebrow at him.

The look in his eyes said it all.

He was judging him for his crude demeanour.

Harry shrugged it off.

He didn’t care.

He never had, and he never would.

Malfoy dragged his chair back a little, giving him a bit more space, and getting that bit more comfortable, Harry lifted his barefoot and strategically placed it between Malfoy’s legs. He quite deliberately made sure that his toes were close enough to Malfoy’s groin that he could feel the light pressure of them pushing against the underside of his cock and his balls and positively delighted in Malfoy’s sharp intake of breath; the only discernible sign that he’d allowed the position of Harry’s foot to affect him.

“Wouldn’t be us if I didn’t insult you at least once a day, Malfoy,” he said.

Malfoy huffed, pretending to be annoyed when he was clearly amused.

“I’ll give you that, Potter,” he said.

His nonchalance was genuinely admirable, even more so because Harry knew precisely how to dismantle it and bring out a side of Malfoy nobody but him had ever seen. Malfoy fancied himself an expert in capturing his undivided attention and holding it too, but Harry prided himself on his ability to get under Malfoy’s skin. He’d done so for nearly three decades and he intended to continue doing so for several more.

“Takes one to know one,” Harry said with a shrug.

He straightened up a little and sipped on his coffee, intently watching as Malfoy did the same, then responded to him.

“Indeed.”

Harry chuckled.

“In the name of shaking things up, how shall we continue?” he asked.

Malfoy briefly glanced at the folded copy of this morning’s Prophet. They both could see just about enough of today’s headline and the moving photograph it accompanied to know that their little stunt was breaking news.

“By ignoring everything they say and continuing to let them speculate.”

Harry laughed.

“Bold,” he said.

“Brass,” Malfoy countered.

They both laughed, and as they shared their amusement, Harry couldn’t help but take pleasure in the silliness of that particular moment. Compared to what they’d done last night, this was a light-hearted moment between two people who knew each other exceptionally well.

Three decades ago, they’d turned each other’s worlds upside down, now it was time to turn the entire world on its head and reveal a secret they’d kept for the longest time.

The game was most definitely on, and Harry was ready for the chase and Malfoy was too.

* * *

* * *


End file.
